


you keep me balanced

by tazernkaner



Series: I'll make sure to keep my distance [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU, M/M, Patrick plays for Buffalo, just a little bit of drunk and sad pining idiots, who can never communicate properly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tazernkaner/pseuds/tazernkaner
Summary: “You’re so pretty Patrick,” Jonny giggles a little, reaching out to touch the slight stubble starting to form along Patrick’s jaw. “So, so pretty.”





	you keep me balanced

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth part of this fic! It’s not really a lot of plot. Just something I wrote very quickly. I have 10k written in the big final part of this AU and am hoping to have it all posted by the end of the month!

**Allstar Weekend, 2012**

 

“You’re so pretty Patrick,” Jonny giggles a little, reaching out to touch the slight stubble starting to form along Patrick’s jaw. “So _, so_ pretty.”

Patrick turns his head - he’s got Jonny slung over his shoulder and suddenly their lips are so, so close. Jonny wants to kiss him, wants what he hasn’t been able to have for the past eight months.

“You’re drunk, Jonny,” Patrick snorts with a raised eyebrow, but there’s a hint of amusement behind it. Maybe even fondness.

“Mm,” Jonny hums in agreement because he is drunk. He shouldn’t have tried to match Ovechkin in shots. That was his fatal mistake. “Still think you’re pretty, even when I’m sober,” he insists anyways because Patrick is pretty and he should know it. He doesn’t have anyone else to tell him - at least Jonny doesn’t think he does. God, it would suck if he did.

“Don’t think too hard,” Patrick says and flicks Jonny on the nose. It’s so ridiculously cute that Jonny has to smile at him - a big toothy grin.

“Just thinking about how pretty you are,” he lies. Because he’s hardly going to tell Patrick he was thinking about him being with someone else and how much that would break his heart. That would really affect this casual thing they’ve got going here.

“God,” Patrick laughs. “You’re insane. You’re going to be so hungover tomorrow.”

“Nah, no hangovers for me. Won’t allow it.”

Patrick grunts and shifts Jonny on his shoulder. Jonny had forgotten how heavy he is, he’d kind of just been letting Patrick drag him along. He tries to untangle himself from Patrick and walk by himself, but as soon as he’s free of Patrick’s grip he ends up stumbling forwards.

“Jesus,” Patrick whistles out as he steadies him. “Maybe you should just...yeah,” he breathes as Jonny is slotted back over his arm. His breath dans against Jonny’s neck, making the hairs on his skin prickle. He wants to leave over and kiss him so bad, but he knows he can’t until they’re in the confines of his hotel room. It sucks.

It fucking sucks.

“What does?” Patrick asks and shit. Jonny didn’t realize he was saying that out loud.

“Nothing,” Jonny says, trying to wave it away with his hand.

“Captain Serious, hammered. Someone alert the press,” Patrick teases as he pushes Jonny through the door to his hotel room.

“Heyyyyyyyy,” Jonny whines - which okay clearly he is hammered because he never whines. “I hate that nickname.”

“Time for bed, buddy,” Patrick says, placing his hand on Jonny’s chest and giving him a shove. Jonny falls back easily, which he should be embarrassed about because he is so much bigger than Patrick. But he’s kind of stuck on wanting him to push him around some more.

“Buddy?” Jonny challenges - because he’s difficult at the best of times, but even worse when he’s drunk. “Is that what you call someone who sucks your dick? Gonna call me buddy when you come down my throat?”

Patrick scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus, Jonny,” he says, drawled out slowly. “You really need to get to bed.”

“Don’t want to go to bed. Want to dance,” Jonny argues, smiling up at him. “Wanted to dance with you all night but I couldn’t.”

A flicker of sadness crosses across Patrick’s face, then it morphs into a small smile. “I know, me too.” He places his hand on Jonny’s shoulder and guides him backwards so he’s laying on the pillows. He turns and heads towards the mini fridge.

Jonny wanted to dance with Patrick. He wanted to sling his arm around his shoulder while they sat together at supper. He wanted to be able to kiss him, to smile at him without worrying about giving himself away. He wanted to be able to see Patrick in the morning and every morning after that.

He doesn’t know how to say any of this to Patrick. Doesn’t know how to put into words all the feelings he’s got caught in his chest, waiting to burst. Sometimes he thinks he’s knows the words - but they’re not something he could ever say.

He just wants all of Patrick, that’s all.

“Someday,” he mumbles through his drunken fog as his eyes droop shut. “We won’t have to do this anymore, me and you. Someday we’ll be able to have something real.” Patrick will know what he means by that. He’s sure of it. Someday, they’re going to be able to be together without the world caring.

There’s no answer from Patrick for a couple moments so Jonny forces himself to peel one eye open and look at him.

He’s standing there, a bottle of water dangling through his fingers. He looks a bit stricken. Jonny sees his throat bob as he swallows hard.

And maybe... maybe that was too much for Patrick? Maybe he didn’t feel the same way as Jonny did.

“Yeah,” Patrick answers finally. “Someday.”

Jonny smiles at that, burrowing his face deeper into the pillow.

“Here, drink this okay? I’m going to head back to my room now.”

_Wait. What?_

“You’re not staying?”

“Nah, man, not tonight. Got an early flight.” Patrick’s voice hitches a little and Jonny wants to ask what’s wrong but his eyes are drifting closed and he can’t seem to get control of his mouth to form the words.

“See you, Jonny,” he hears through the haze of sleep. Then: “Good luck finding something real.”

Jonny tries to say _wait what? No! That’s not what I meant!_ But everything around him is slipping to blackness, sleep cloaking him like a warm fuzzy blanket. There’s the faint noise  
of a door shutting softly.

The next thing Jonny knows it’s morning. The sunlight is streaming in from a crack in his curtains and it makes his head throb heavily.

“What the fuck...” he mutters as he tries to sit up. He flops back down as a wave of nausea washes over him. “Ughhh,” he groans into the pillow.

He tries to blink back the pieces of the night before. He’s in his hotel room but has no idea how he got there. The last thing he can remember is doing shots with Price, Parise and Patrick. Then Ovechkin had come over and things started to get a bit hazy from there.

Jonny generally makes it a rule not to get too drunk at the all star game party. It feels like a risk with Patrick there - a risk that he could easily out himself. He’s a bit panicked as he feels around the nightstand for his phone.

“Fuck,” he grumbles, finally giving in and opening his eyes. He sees his phone with a bottle of Advil and a glass of water next to it. On his phone screen there’s a text from Patrick.

_Hope you’re not too hungover today. Drink up._

Jonny obeys, swallowing down the pills then chugging the water. He crawls back under the covers and tries to figure out what had happened last night.

“ _Sorry about last night. I’m assuming you brought me back? I can’t remember much_ ,” Jonny texts back.

Patrick’s reply comes back instantly. “ _Yeah. Don’t worry bout it. See you in March_.”

“March,” Jonny says out loud, his heart sinking. His flight isn’t until the afternoon - he was hoping to spend a little time together before he left. He’s got the feeling he did something to upset Patrick - but he doesn’t know how to ask. So he replies and says “ _see you in March,_ ” because he never knows how to say what he really wants too. Not when it comes to Patrick, anyway.


End file.
